


grow into your shadow (to keep mine company)

by thistleflare



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Childhood Friends, F/F, Hand wavy magic, KageHina - Freeform, M/M, also ish, ish?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28241118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistleflare/pseuds/thistleflare
Summary: A collection of scenes from Tobio's life. Including, but not limited to: the shadow-boy that haunts him, the best friend who hated him at first, and a ramen shop.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Shimizu Kiyoko/Yachi Hitoka (mentioned)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52
Collections: Kagehina Big Bang 2020





	grow into your shadow (to keep mine company)

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the kagehina big bang 2020! 
> 
> I'm so sorry I'm posting this late, I misread the schedule :')
> 
> It's been a while since I've written them, but I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you to @king--gary on tumblr for beta-ing and don't forget to check out the amazing art by @tdrtea on twitter!! <3

Tobio has come to many revelations over the years, and will likely continue to do so. The one he has when he is six years old goes like this: 

Not everyone can see...  _ him _ . The boy he plays volleyball with.

Well, Tobio doesn’t know if it’s a person - it’s just a dark shape with a head and some limbs, but Tobio has checked and it's not  _ his  _ shadow. He also doesn’t really play volleyball  _ with  _ him, but it’s close enough. They usually stand side by side in the park, or in Tobio’s backyard, going through volleyball drills separately. He does setting drills, and the shadow-boy does some complicated looking spiking drill. The one time Tobio tried it he ended up smacking himself in the head and Miwa-nee laughed at him so he never did it again. 

The figure is tall, but not as tall as Grandpa - he must be at least a couple of years older than him, maybe even a  _ high schooler _ . Maybe he’s been playing volleyball for a whole  _ ten years  _ more than Tobio. It’s exciting, thinking about all the people out there that are better than him. He’ll catch up soon enough. 

The boy never talks, never makes a sound. And it’s only when he tries to introduce the boy to Grandpa that he thinks to question it. 

The boy appears in his backyard while Tobio is setting the ball up to the sky and catching it with his fingertips. He sees movement out of the corner of his eye and that familiar feeling rises within him. He grins at the shadow-boy and runs inside to get Grandpa. 

“Look, look!” Tobio yells, dragging the old man outside, “He’s here! He’s the one I’ve been telling you about!”

Grandpa looks at the spot Tobio’s pointing at, but says nothing. The sometimes-stern line of his mouth grows longer. 

“Maybe it’s time you joined a proper team, Tobio,” he says instead. 

It takes a moment. He’s been told that outside of volleyball he’s dumber than a preschooler. Tobio looks between the shadow-boy, who hasn’t paused in his drills - receiving this time - and Grandpa, who is only looking at him, and he gets it. 

He can’t see him. 

Tobio’s cheeks flush and he nods, never taking his eyes off the dirt below him. He feels Grandpa ruffle his hair and hears the soft  _ tap  _ of the back door sliding against the door frame, and finally, finally he looks back up. 

The shadow-boy is setting a ball onto the wall and then trying to roll on the floor before bumping it straight up in the air. As far as Tobio can see, he’s only succeeded once. 

It’s humiliating. 

He’s six now. He shouldn’t  _ have  _ imaginary friends anymore, and now Grandpa thinks he’s a  _ baby.  _

“I’m never going to see you again,” he tells the boy resolutely, “and I’m never going to talk to you again either.”

Like always, he doesn’t get a reply. 

From then on, Tobio throws himself into volleyball. Into whatever team Grandpa is training, into his school team, into dragging his sister into the backyard so she can spike for him - he thinks of little else and he  _ loves it.  _

When they think he’s out of earshot, some people call him a genius. 

Grandpa just grins and says: “Not yet, but he will be.” 

Tobio keeps his eyes forward at all times, to the future. He’s gonna be at the top, the center of a team of powerhouses he can control with the tips of his fingers- 

But he’s still there. 

Every time he picks up a volleyball, the shadow-boy does too. Occasionally Tobio will catch his eyes drifting around the gym, catch the swell of  _ he’s not here this time  _ before the rush of shame that fills him when he inevitably spots him in the corner. 

It’s the worst.

Slowly, Tobio starts to notice things. He gets to the top of the hill before Grandpa. He sets too high for his sister to spike. It’s his turn to serve and he is blinded by the knowledge that he could end the game right there, if he wanted to. But he can’t. He wants to stay on the court just one second longer, to set just one more ball. 

So he doesn’t end the game there. He keeps playing, keeps struggling, and wins. Of course he does. He thumbs at the calluses forming on the tips of his fingers absent-mindedly as the coach holds a post-match meeting and he thinks:  _ I wanted to play longer.  _

The other kids are collected by their parents and they chat happily about the match, about how cool they were or  _ you’ll get ‘em next time!  _ But what Tobio gets is:

“Were you going easy on your serves on purpose?” 

And he stops. And stares. And finally, nods. 

He just wanted to stay on the court as long as he could. 

Then, what he gets is:

“Somebody even better will come and find you.” 

And that  _ thrills  _ him. It sends electricity through his veins and sets his teeth on edge. The thought of just how many people there are out there that are  _ better  _ than him. And if he keeps going, all the way to the top, then maybe there will be someone there waiting to be found. 

It’s so vibrant he can almost  _ feel  _ it. 

Tobio has always loved volleyball, but now he  _ knows.  _ This is it for him. This is his path. The starting line, ready to start running after all those who are ahead of him. He wonders about all the people he’s going to meet next year, in the next  _ five  _ years. Are they training right now? What are they practicing? What kind of drills do they do? 

His match only ended five minutes ago, but Tobio is suddenly full of restless energy. He wants to run faster, jump higher, set a ball to someone he knows is gonna  _ slam  _ it to the floor.

He wants to  _ be there.  _

At the top. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and Tobio is struck by the feeling that he’s being watched. He stops in his tracks and whirls around and the shadow-boy is staring back at him - at least, he thinks he is. The dark figure doesn’t really have a face, let alone eyes but. There’s something. A spark of connection between them. He is being watched and is watching in return. 

They pause. This is the first time he’s ever been acknowledged by the shadow-boy, and he’s dumbstruck. Tobio thinks Grandpa says something, but he pays it no mind. 

Then, the shadow-boy runs past him and. He’s fast. And big. It’s the first time in a  _ long  _ time that Tobio has actually seen him up close and he wonders, as he sees the boy(?) disappear, what it would take to beat him. Who he is.  _ What he is.  _

A hand is waved in front of his face. Tobio looks up and oh. Grandpa’s still here. 

“Y’alright Tobio?” he says. 

“Yeah,” Tobio replies, “just… thinking about training.” 

Grandpa laughs and ruffles his hair. “Training? You just played a match!” he laughs. “Guess there’s no dousing the fire of the dedicated.” 

Tobio nods, but he’s still watching the space where the shadow disappeared. 

Maybe it’s just because he was younger, but he could have  _ sworn  _ that he wasn’t able to tell that the shadow had curly hair before. 

* * *

Starting middle school opens his eyes to a new  _ world _ of possibilities. He’s better than the first years he joins with, that much is obvious, but the people on his team? They’re amazing. In orientation a third year showed them a jump float serve like it was  _ nothing.  _

Tobio starts middle school with that same electric fervour that has driven him his whole life. 

He will end middle school with a twisted sense of guilt and a desperate, frantic drive to do better. But he doesn’t know that yet. 

What he does know is that Oikawa-senpai is the first person ahead of him on that path. He’s got monster serves and an even scarier ability to talk to people. Everyone on the team seems to get uplifted when Oikawa tells them what to do, where to be. There was a brief thought that he might be the person Tobio’s waiting for, but Oikawa-senpai actively tries to be wherever Tobio  _ isn’t.  _ So. Not him.

But he keeps training. 

He keeps going until the sun has set and he’s alone in the gym, accompanied only by the sound of rubber slamming on linoleum and his own heavy breathing. 

And, of course, his shadow. 

He’s more annoyed at it now. He never practices anything Tobio can  _ use.  _ It’s never Oikawa’s jump serve or Akashi’s receives. It’s just. The same drills Tobio’s seen him do for years. 

The ball Tobio was meant to set back to the wall flies over his head, but he doesn’t chase it. 

He walks over to the shadow. 

They’re almost the same height now. He wonders how long it’ll be before he surpasses it. 

Tobio walks back over to his spot and picks up the ball. First, he’ll surpass Oikawa. 

* * *

In his third year, he has another one of those pesky revelations, and it is this: 

He is alone. 

It starts in training. He doesn’t chat with the others in breaks, he doesn’t walk home with any of the other third years. It’s strange - they all went through the same first year trials, the same ups and downs. He has even shared classes with them, but they’re not friends. 

Which is fine by him. All he needs is his team’s game. Their skills. He doesn’t need anything past that. 

He just needs them to make up the numbers so he can stand on the court. Winning is secondary because it's a given at this point. No one trains as much as Tobio but they  _ do  _ train. And they’re good, too. 

It’s nice, being on a strong team. 

He doesn’t realise  _ how  _ nice, until that match. 

The match against some  _ nothing  _ middle school, the match that should have just been an easy win, a footnote like;  _ “Hey wasn’t it lucky we were up against them? Basically a free pass,”  _ but it wasn’t. 

Because of  _ him.  _

It was like Tobio looked behind him on that path for the first time and saw a demon sprinting towards him. An unskilled, tiny little speck who was jumping better than anyone on _his_ side of the net. 

And it  _ pissed him off.  _

He’s never even  _ seen  _ this kid before - not in a competition, not in a practice match, not  _ anywhere!  _ And he has the  _ gall  _ to just… 

Tobio brushes the sentence aside to grab the net. To twist it in his fingers like that will soothe all his frustration. 

“What have you been  _ doing  _ the past three years?” he snarls, and knows he is justified. 

The kid glares back, but the heat of it is lost when tears prick at the corner of his eyes. Tobio is ignored after that, and watches the kid walk back to the end line. When he turns around, the tears are gone but his glare remains. A message. An answer he will no doubt hear eventually. 

Turns out,  _ eventually _ is just a matter of hours. 

Apparently he has someone coming for his title. It is the answer from that glare, vocalised. The kid promises this from three steps away from him - already so much closer than the 18 metres between them at the end of the match. Up until this moment he would have gladly  _ paid _ someone to get rid of it, this heavy burden of  _ false king _ but now-

But now, he wants it to be taken from him. 

“The only ones who remain on court are the winners and the strong,” he says, “if you want to win and advance, try growing stronger!” 

To this, there is no reply. But maybe there is an understanding. 

Even though Grandpa is always yelling at him to take it easy after matches, he runs home. He almost passes out when he steps inside, but he’s buzzing. For the first time, he’s excited for a rematch against someone he’s already beaten. 

But he won, so he goes back tomorrow to stand on the court.

In the last match, he almost wishes he hadn’t won. He sets a toss, and no one tries to - no. It’s not that. 

He sets a toss, and is vindictively rejected. 

And they are defeated.

In the corner of the stadium there is a shadow practicing receives up against an empty wall. He stays there until the ref blows his whistle and somehow he makes everything worse. Last match Tobio didn’t even notice him, but now it’s like he’s sucking all the light out of the room. He can’t look away. 

Tobio doesn’t talk to his team after the match, and they don’t talk to him. He ignores the coach’s attempts at a post-match brief and walks home, refusing to think. He squishes thoughts down as they come to him and barely pays attention to where he’s walking, knowing that he’ll end up at home. 

When he gets there, he heads straight out into the backyard. Picks up a volleyball. Stares at it for a few moments, still squishing down thoughts he doesn’t want to deal with. Something flares up from deep within his chest and he  _ throws  _ the ball as hard as he can. 

It passes through the shadow-boy and hits the fence behind him. 

And that’s it. The last fucking straw. The sight of that  _ thing  _ calmly going through the same drills Tobio has been watching since he can remember as if his world  _ hadn’t  _ just imploded.

“Why are you  _ here?”  _ Tobio screams. “What are you, why won’t you leave me  _ alone?” _

He’s ignored, like he always is. He knew it would happen but this is the first time he’s actually acknowledged the shadow in  _ years.  _ He’s taller than it now. 

Tobio picks up the ball. Turns it over in his hands a few times, less angry but still frustrated. He doesn’t want to get rid of this bitter, rumbling feeling because it’s much better than whatever’s underneath it. 

He glares at the figure for good measure, and then pauses and sits down, back against the fence. With a sigh, Tobio reaches up and bumps the ball against his fingertips - it’s not really a toss, it’s just enough to keep his hands moving. 

“Are you dead?” he asks, eventually. “Am I being haunted? As punishment for something?”

He gets no reply. 

“Are you a family curse no one told me about? A volleyball curse?”

It’s quiet. Tobio can hear the distant murmur of a cicada and the muted noises of Miwa’s phone call upstairs and the sound of one well-worn volleyball against his fingers, but the shadow makes no noise. 

It’s quiet, and for one violent second Tobio wants to break it. 

Instead, he says goodnight to the shadow - the ghost, the curse, the childhood imaginary friend - and goes to bed without dinner. 

In an ideal world, there would be six of him, so he could play every position and hit every toss. There would be no need to rely on other people who clearly want nothing to do with him. He could go all-out in a match. Maybe even make it to nationals. 

When he falls asleep, he dreams of the sound of a volleyball being  _ slammed  _ down, unblocked. 

_ Yeah,  _ Tobio thinks,  _ if only there were six of me.  _

* * *

He’s late to practice. 

It’s not his fault. He stayed up late practicing because there was this one combo the Brazillian team did at the last Olympics and he was  _ just  _ figuring out how each moving part fit together when- it was morning, and he had slept through two of his alarms. 

When he finally arrives he almost dreads walking into the gym. He’s ten minutes late to official practice but he usually arrives an hour or two early to drill basics into his dumbass partner and he just  _ knows  _ he’s gonna get shit for not turning up. 

Thinking back to this time last year - this is a nice problem to have, retrospectively. 

Doesn’t mean it’s not gonna  _ suck  _ though. 

Tobio walks in and it’s like they were  _ waiting _ for him. Actually - knowing this team, that isn’t too far fetched.

He bows low to the sound of light-hearted jeering and squeaky shoes. “Captain! Sorry for being late!” 

He doesn’t have to look to know he’s being mocked by Tsukishima. There are pretty good odds of that happening at any time really, but he can hear Yamaguchi trying to smother his giggles and he really tries to not let it annoy him this time. 

When he raises his head, Tobio’s eyes automatically seek out an orange mop of hair in the corner and it’s like he’s been slapped in the face. 

He knows that drill. 

Hinata’s doing it shittily, and he fumbles the ball more often than not but Tobio  _ knows  _ that drill. He’s been watching out of the corner of his eye for years. 

“Hey Late-yama.” Hinata sticks out his tongue, holding the ball still for now, “you’re lucky Coach Ukai showed me this super hard drill last week or you’d be  _ toast.”  _

“Coach showed you that?”

“Oi! What’s more important here is that  _ you  _ took the keys last time, Shitty-yama! I was stuck outside freezing until Tanaka-senpai let me in.”

“I’ve never seen Coach teach that drill before, do you know if it’s popular?” 

Hinata huffs and rolls his eyes, but it isn’t like Tobio can tell him  _ why  _ it’s so important. “I’ve been seeing a ghost do that same drill my whole life please tell me how you know it”?? No.

“Here,” Hinata says, and throws the ball to him. “If you’re not gonna listen you might as well toss to me.”

Tobio catches the ball, mostly on instinct. “But both the nets are in use.” 

“Does it matter? Toss to me here!” 

Tobio glares and is glared at back. A familiar routine. One held up since the first time they had ever met. He sighs despite not actually being troubled by it and gets into position for a toss. 

Hinata lets out a woop and starts his run up. If that boy ever has to hide his emotions he’s done for, Tobio thinks as Hinata seems to run in slow motion. If there was ever a situation where he couldn’t project 100% of what he was feeling onto his face, he’d probably just combust. 

_ He’d make a terrible spy,  _ Tobio continues as Hinata launches into the air, eyes squeezed shut. There’s a split second of uncertainty between the ball leaving his hands and hitting Hinata’s but sure enough his aim was spot on. The sound the ball made hitting the floor put a stop to the blocking drills going on at the nets. 

“Hey!” Daichi yells, “No spikes for newbies  _ or  _ latecomers, get back to practice!”

“Haaah... As I thought, the day just doesn’t feel right when I don’t hit one of your tosses first thing,” Hinata sighs as he collects the ball. “Make sure you’re not late again, Shitty-yama.” 

Tobio rolls his eyes, but something settles in him at Hinata’s words. It’s like this was the moment his body got the memo that what happened at that match last year won’t happen again - if no one else on the team would could hit it, then there’s no doubt this stupid shorty would run halfway across the court in a second to make the point.  _ This  _ is the reason there aren’t six of him. So that he can experience all this. 

All Hinata needs to do was trust him and jump, and there was no way a set of Kageyama’s was touching their side of the court again. 

“Hello? Hellooooo,” Hinata calls, holding the ball ready to throw, “you in there?” 

Tobio refocuses and nods. Holds his arms out in a perfect dig position. Almost by habit, he scans the gym. Nothing. It’s weird but he had yet to see the shadow at Karasuno-

He is interrupted from his thoughts by the fact that he is now on the floor. And his face hurts.

“Aaaaah sorry, sorry Kageyama!” Hinata cries from a safe distance away, “Don’t hurt me.” 

Tobio grabs the ball. Stands up. And promptly throws it at Hinata’s face. See how  _ he  _ likes it for once. 

Hinata yelps and runs away from the ball, but he isn’t going to get far. It’s a small gym and Hinata is a small person. There’s only so much space to run. 

“HINTATAA” 

“I SAID I WAS SORRY-” 

“BOTH OF YOU KNOCK IT OFF AND GET BACK TO PRACTICE!” 

* * *

It’s weird. It’s like the ghost is allergic to Karasuno or something. When he practices in his garden, that thing is right there with him, doing that same stupid drill that apparently Hinata now knows too. But Karasuno? Never there. 

Tobio looks over to the shadow, just barely visible in the dim light seeping out from the living room window. 

“I’m going to figure you out,” he says, “even if it's just because I’m crazy, I’m going to figure you out.” 

And he will, eventually. 

Eventually. 

* * *

In their second year, low off a loss at nationals but high off  _ that game _ , Tobio does something stupid. So stupid an elementary schooler would have done better. 

He over practices. And sprains his finger. 

It’s basically a death sentence. 

No practice for two weeks. He might actually die if he can’t touch a volleyball for two weeks. The doctor tapes up his left hand and tells him he was lucky because if it was his right hand he wouldn’t be able to take notes at school. Tobio almost scoffs in his face, but remembers at the last second that he probably shouldn’t be rude to the person who fixed his hand.

Lucky. Right. 

He still goes to practice though. He needs to be there for strategy and to observe new plays and game breakdowns and important stuff and basically he has  _ way  _ too much free time now. He didn’t realise how much of his time was occupied by volleyball, but he’s really,  _ really  _ bored without it. 

So. He sits himself down in the gym, far away from Coach and the two managers because he doesn’t feel like talking, and he watches. He was somewhat worried there would be an insurmountable gap in strength when the third years left, but the  _ new  _ third years have grown to be pretty reliable. Ennoshita is turning out to be a pretty good captain, even. 

His first decree as captain was to recognise that their play style needs to change now that they don’t have the old third year’s strength, but it’s different to try and implement that in a game. Tobio struggles not to laugh as they try out the “cool and collected” style of Nekoma. It really doesn’t suit them when there are so many hotheads on the team, which now includes a new first year who thinks Hinata is the coolest thing to ever grace the court. 

The Nekoma style, shockingly, isn’t for them. It’s the third they’ve tried and when Coach Ukai calls a halt to practice everyone goes over sluggishly. It’s not working. They can’t find a new style. 

“I think we’ve learnt a lot from this,” Takeda-sensei starts, “mainly that yes, the old third years have left a hole in our play, but also that we can’t evolve if we limit ourselves to what our opponents are doing.”

Coach Ukai steps forward. “Takeda-sensei’s right, we’ve been going about this the wrong way. We’ll play as we always do - to our strengths. We’re crows, first and foremost, and we’re not changing that. Instead let's find our new strengths and go from there.”

The team seems significantly more energised. The new first years are looking at Coach Ukai with stars in their eyes and Tobio really does scoff then. That’ll wear off soon enough, it’s hard to hero worship someone who made you run suicides until the last person dropped to the floor. 

Kageyama closes his eyes and tries to ignore the restlessness building up inside. He wants to get up so bad he’s practically vibrating. Maybe he should go on a run, that’s not using his hands right?

Maybe Hinata would want to race him. They’re in a break now, he could probably piss him off enough to race without getting yelled at. But when he looks over, Hinata has stars in his eyes talking to that first year, going through the motions of a jump super slowly. They’re both loud and excited and Tobio can’t decide whether he wants to avoid them completely or go over to break them up. It’s a weird and uncomfortable feeling that ultimately ends with Tobio running by himself. 

He does laps around the gym until practice is over, and he only stops because Hinata is suddenly in his path, no first years in sight. 

“C’mon stupid, practice is over,” Hinata says, “let’s go home already.” 

Somewhere along the way Tobio had discarded his jacket so he uses the end of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face and takes a few slow breaths to slow his heartbeat. 

“A-anyway!” Hinata yells, and Tobio drops his shirt only to see Hinata already walking away, “let’s go! My mum’s gonna yell at me if I’m late!”

“You’re always late,” Tobio grumbles and grabs his stuff. 

“Says you.”

“One time, I’m late  _ one time…”  _

They set off down the hill - Hinata walking his bike, Tobio bumping his hip every so often to make it harder for him, and no annoying first years.

It’s only when he reaches his front door, long after saying goodbye to Hinata when it occurs to him: he hasn’t seen the shadow in over a year now. 

* * *

Kageyama stretches out the fingers on both hands before clasping them together twice. It’s a habit he formed in second year after the tape from that stupid sprain came off. The stretching is so it doesn’t happen again, but the rest is just something he did when he could part all his fingers again. 

The first time Hinata saw him do it, he stopped in his tracks.

“Have you always done that?” Hinata had asked, and Tobio shook his head. 

“Just since the sprain. I can move all my fingers separately again, look.” And he waved the fingers on his left hand. 

“Huh.” 

“Why?” 

Hinata had paused, and looked away. “You just remind me of something- some _ one  _ else I know.” 

A hit to his shoulder grounds him back to the present. 

“Oi, spacey-yama, if we’re the last third years there we’re gonna have to do serving practice. Don’t be bitter just cus you’re not the captain, you can still be the king of the court,” Hinata grins at him. 

Kageyama hit him back. “You’re gonna be the last third year there, dumbass. Yamaguchi’s gonna make you do serving drills with the first years and they’ll lose all respect for you.” 

“No,  _ you’re  _ gonna be last, stupid!” 

They both run off, and Hinata beats him by only a  _ split  _ second. “Ha!” Hinata puffs, “that means…  _ you’re  _ the… last one!” 

“You’re both last,” interrupts Tsukishima coming down the stairs, “hurry up and get changed, idiots.” 

Hinata sticks out his tongue but runs up to the change room with Tobio hot on his heels. They used to get changed right next to each other, chatting about new plays or how they could make their minus quick even stronger but last year Tobio determined it would be his cause of death if he was caught off-guard by Hinata taking off his shirt one more fucking time. So, he made some stupid excuse about breathing better next to the door and moved. 

One of the second years put up a poster for a famous movie franchise up on the locker next to him. It’s bright and colourful and full of robots and that is pretty much the extent of what Tobio knows about it. He’s very familiar with the poster. For no particular reason, it just looks cool. And it’s an easy distraction, not that he needs one. He’s fine and definitely is  _ not  _ stopping himself from looking at Hinata’s back. 

“Oh, do you like those movies?” Hinata suddenly asks next to him and Tobio startles. Then shrugs.

“I guess.” 

“The next one’s coming out this weekend.” Hinata says, looking everywhere but at him - he hasn’t been caught, has he? No. Calm down. “Wanna go and see it? With me, I mean? We could uh, get lunch to avoid paying for movie snacks too. If you want.” 

Tobio will take almost any excuse to see Hinata under the sun but he hates movie theatres  _ so much. _ They’re sticky and loud and awful. He’d also probably combust if he had to sit that close to Hinata in the dark for two hours and just  _ sit still.  _ He’s not sure he could quiet down that part of him that wants to always be touching Hinata for that long.

“I don’t really like going to the movies,” Tobio says and prays his voice sounds normal, “and besides, we promised Yachi we’d get over 70 on our next english test so we should probably study with her at some point.” 

Yes. Good. Yachi could be a buffer. She’ll stop him from doing something stupid. 

“Oh, yeah. You’re right, we probably should.” Hinata sounds strained and Tobio gives him a wary look. He’s just about to ask if he’s ok when Hinata coughs and runs down the stairs. 

“You need it more than I do though, dumbass!” Hinata yells back at him. 

Coach scolds them for being late even though the first and second years haven’t turned up yet, and Yamaguchi puts them  _ both  _ on serving duty. Hinata acts weird throughout the whole thing. He’s loud at all the wrong places and won’t look him in the eye and flips between completely distracted and hyper-focused. Tobio knows it’s not his favourite but he didn’t think the first years did  _ that  _ bad. And Hinata didn’t hit a single person in the head. 

Maybe he was more worried about that english test than Tobio thought. 

At lunch he stretches out his fingers, and clasps his hands together twice before grabbing a ball and heading outside. There’s still some issues with one of the second years - he has a powerful jump but bad form, and so his striking height for spikes keeps changing. Tobio glaces at the shadow practicing against the wall, half translucent in the sun, and closes his eyes. Visualises the first year. The net. What height he’d need if his form was better. There’s no need to practice for anything but his best height. They’ll get him there before the inter-high, Tobio is sure of it. 

He sets the ball and knows that’s it. A bullseye. 

When he opens his eyes to collect the ball he notices the shadow is gone which can only mean one thing. He picks up the ball and turns around to find Hinata staring at him. 

It’s the only thing he knows about the ghost. First he thought it was Karasuno, then he thought it was gone entirely, but now he gets it. It just doesn’t like Hinata, for some reason. It stays, intangible as ever, around the rest of his teammates, but it avoids Hinata like the plague. 

“Whose toss is that?” Hinata asks. 

“Akio’s, when he gets better.” 

Hinata snorts. “Give me a toss, I’m better than him.” 

Tobio doesn’t disagree. “Still shorter, though,” he says, and tosses the ball. 

Without fail, Hinata jumps, even though the comment pissed him off. His vertical jump now is one of the strongest in Japan, without a doubt. He knows this with the same certainty that he knows the sky is blue, or that calculus will never come up in his adult life. 

There is something else he knows, too: they’ll be at the top someday.

Hinata spikes the ball, and the sound of it hitting the dirt isn’t the same as the  _ thwap  _ of the hardwood floor of the court, but it thrills him all the same. Hinata shakes his hand out a couple of times, but doesn’t turn around to face him. Tobio is struck, not for the first time, with the urge to wrap his arms around him, to be closer than he is allowed to be. 

A beat passes, and then Hinata is just the same as he was yesterday. No more weirdness. 

“Hey Kageyama,” Hinata says with stars in his eyes, “do you know what beach volleyball is? Coach Ukai told me about it today.” 

* * *

Hinata made saying goodbye harder, because he kept looking back at them as he walked away, waving every time. It would have been better to have one good, final look at his face to memorise all the little details he’s sure to forget in a year. It would have been better to have more time to prepare, to memorise in advance. Hinata didn’t say a word until graduation, which is  _ not  _ enough notice  _ at all.  _ Every time Hinata looks back at them he’s a little further away, a little more out of focus, and Tobio doesn’t want his last memory of today to be his best friend as a tiny speck in the distance of this cramped, stale-smelling airport. 

But that’s what he gets. And he’ll treasure it until Hinata comes back. 

The send-off party is quiet now, more than half with tears in their eyes. The whole original Karasuno team, plus some of the newer members, plus some of their rivals are here. Yachi is full-on sobbing into Kiyoko’s shoulder and Kenma is pretending not to care but fooling no one. Suga suggests they all go out to eat but they’re such a huge group and it’d feel… weird, without Hinata there. The common link between all of them. 

They disperse with enthusiastic promises to catch up again someday soon. 

Tobio gets in his car and drives home. His new home - an apartment closer to his university. It’s a textbook first apartment; tiny, and kind of ugly to be honest, but Hinata  _ ooh _ -ed and  _ aah _ -ed at every detail when he was over, which makes it… better, somehow. It’s not like Tobio’s gonna be spending much time there anyway, so he didn’t really care which apartment he chose. The reason he picked this one was for the roof. 

He has his own set of keys and no one really goes up there so he’s free to practice as much as he wants. It’s not like he, a broke student, was going to get any sort of backyard in the  _ city.  _

Today, he grabs a volleyball and heads straight up, feeling… off. It’s weird, knowing that Hinata is in a completely different country. 

For a jarring moment, Tobio remembers what he forgot in high school: he is alone. 

Frustrated, he opens the door to the roof, only to find the shadow already there, doing Hinata’s favourite drill, and he remembers  _ why  _ he forgot. Because his team was there. Because Hinata was there. Because his rivals were there, all pushing him forward. Every time, without fail. 

It’s still true now. He has a new team full of old rivals, and Hinata is here. Right in front of him. 

“Figures,” he huffs and twists the ball in his hands, “I’ve been waiting for you forever, dumbass.”

As always, Hinata’s shadow doesn’t reply. 

“He still fumbles that drill sometimes,” Tobio muses to himself, throwing the ball up, “I wonder when he’ll get as good as that. I hope it's before I can go against him, I want to beat him at his best.” 

Tobio goes through his university-mandated workout routine twice, because he wants to beat Hinata at  _ his  _ best, too. When he finishes, it’s late. The sun has already set. 

“Get back soon” he whispers to the barely-visible shadow as he heads inside, “I still want my title taken from me, and you can’t do that playing beach in Rio forever.” 

Tobio’s not sure how he measures up to an exciting new sport in an exciting new country, but he hopes it’s enough, eventually. 

After all, they have the rest of the world to beat.. 

* * *

It’s enough. Hinata comes back.

Tobio has his title wrenched from his hands. Losing, finally losing, feels so much better than he thought. But it’s only the battle. 

He’ll win the war

* * *

“So,” Tobio starts, and he can hear the muffled sounds of the party indoors, “are you here for good?” 

It’s nice that he can see Hinata up close again. He looks best on the court but this is a close second - flushed, smiling, and looking away from him so Tobio can look as much as he wants without getting caught. He should be able to, after only texting for  _ two years _ . 

Hinata’s head moves and Tobio quickly whirls around. Look at the ground. What amazing chipped stone. He’s never seen anything like it. The red and yellow neon lights spill out around them, surrounding their shadows in soft light. Something here feels final, and he knows that this is where these shadows will stay. He won’t be seeing his volleyball ghost in the corner of the gym anymore. 

It’s bittersweet. Moreso than when he thought the shadow disappeared in second year. This time, he can say goodbye. 

Right there, on the dirty ground outside some no-name ramen store in tokyo, Tobio sees his oldest companion, sees how the man sitting next to him has grown into his shadow so well. He could probably do that drill without fumbling even once now. 

In his head, he thanks the shadow for being with him all this time, even though he can’t say he enjoyed  _ all  _ of it. 

Almost in response, the shadow on the ground leans towards him and it’s a shock when he feels Hinata’s head land on his shoulder. Oh right. Hinata is connected to the shadow. The initial shock dies down, but his heartbeat remains loud in his ears. 

“You know,” Hinata says, breaking him out of his thoughts, “I feel like we’ve been playing together my whole life.”

Tobio swallows down how true that really is, and says: “We played  _ against  _ each other today, dumbass. And I haven’t seen you in two years.” 

Hinata snorts and shoves him playfully. “Serves me right for trying to say something  _ nice.”  _

“You? Say something nice? Wow, you really have changed,” Tobio deadpans back, “two years of beach volleyball and now he’s  _ nice.”  _

There. That didn’t sound too bad. That didn’t sound like someone about to choke on his own heart, right? Because it feels like if it doesn’t come out right now, it’ll explode. Two months ago he was thinking it wasn’t that bad but now he’s back Tobio realises he’s been colourblind for two years. What else could explain how only  _ now  _ he notices the new, tiny freckles splattered across Hinata’s cheeks or the wash of neon in his hair. Hinata's hand is  _ right there  _ and suddenly it’s all he can think about. He’ll explode if he doesn’t touch it  _ right now.  _

Tobio pauses. Takes a shaky breath in and a slower, steadier one out. He’s been here before. This is nothing new. 

“There is another reason I came back,” Hinata said after a pause. 

“Mm?”

This time it was Hinata’s turn to take that shaky breath in. Hold. And then breathe out. He sits up and looks Tobio directly in the eye. Suddenly, he was looking at Hinata through the holes of a net, sweaty and tired but thrilled that Hinata could get a point off him like that, thrilled that Tobio wouldn’t let it happen again- 

“Kageyama.” 

Right. Ramen shop. Street. Glowing, golden eyes. 

“I need you to reject me. Properly this time,” Hinata says, looking like he hates every second. 

Tobio  _ also  _ hates every second. His brain stalls. What can that  _ possibly  _ mean. 

At the lack of an answer, Hinata rambles on, nervously: “I know I said it was fine and I realise it probably bugged you a lot in high school - I thought that being in Rio would help but it only made it  _ worse.  _ So much worse. And Heitor said it could be because I didn’t get proper closure so I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable it’s just you never actually said-”

“Hinata,” Tobio interrupts, “what do you mean _ ‘properly?’” _

Hinata opens his mouth to answer-

“And what do you mean  _ ‘this time?’” _

That is the wrong thing to say, clearly. 

“I knew you were uncomfortable with it but I didn’t think you were  _ cruel-”  _

“Uncomfortable with  _ what?” _

“You  _ know  _ what!” Hinata gets up off the wall, scowling at him with glassy eyes as he starts to walk away. 

Tobio grabs his arm, desperately. “I don’t! I really don’t! Would you stop being so fucking  _ cryptic-” _

“You want cryptic?” Hinata seethes, “I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU. And I hate it! You’ve really changed these past two years if now you’re the fucking type to-”

And Tobio kisses him, because he can’t  _ not  _ anymore. He still doesn’t understand all the other stuff Hinata is saying but he  _ definitely  _ heard “I’m” and “love” and “you” all in the same sentence, so. That part inside that had screamed  _ hold his hand!!  _ earlier wrenched control of his body away from anything rational and Tobio kissed him. 

It’s mostly teeth, and then a split second where it’s  _ not _ , where he’s being kissed  _ back _ \- 

And then he is violently shoved away. 

“You,” Hinata says, a tear spilling from his eye and down his cheek, “better have a good reason for doing that.” 

“I’ve been in love with you for four years,” Tobio blurts. Saying out loud makes his face burst into flames, and he has to look away from those sharp eyes. He’s never even said it to  _ himself _ before. Whatever has been holding back his impulses for the last four years is gone, wholly and completely. “And I’m very confused right now.”

Hinata stops, shocked. “Four years?”

Tobio nods, and Hinata’s eyebrows raise as he counts backwards on his fingers. 

“SECOND YEAR??” 

Tobio swallows, and nods again. Maybe he  _ didn’t  _ hear “I’m” and “love” and “you” in the same sentence after all, maybe he- 

“But you rejected me when we were seniors?”

Tobio’s entire world stops. 

“I did what?”

Hinata gapes at him. “You. Rejected me. Like, three times. I tried to ask you out to- to the movies and stuff and you said no every time. I thought that was you telling me to get a clue!”

“I hate going to the movies!” Tobio protests, “the seats feel awful and popcorn is so expensive and everyone is so  _ noisy  _ and-” 

“What about that time I asked you to go to the sports store after school and you brought  _ all the first years?”  _

“They needed knee pads! And we went to the sports store all the time!” 

“Yeah but we were supposed to get food after as well!” 

“Well how was I supposed to know that!” 

“You-” Hinata stops. Somehow, they had ended up three inches away from each other. If this was one of their old arguments, right about now Hinata would probably jump on him and they’d wrestle until someone yelled at them. But. 

This was different. 

“So. You weren’t rejecting me?” Hinata asks, quietly. Almost like if he spoke the words too loudly some bubble would burst and it’d all be a lie. 

“No. Never.” 

“And,” Hinata continues, “you… like me?” 

Tobio swallows. “Desperately.” 

It rubs him raw to say, to admit out loud  _ again _ but it’s all worth it when Hinata pulls him across those three inches and kisses him, finally, and it hits him like a freight train. He is loved. This realisation surprises him, because he’s an idiot. And because he’s an idiot it will keep surprising him for the rest of his life, in all the ways it will grow and change and evolve between them. In eighty years he will look back and say it started here, but that’ll probably cause another argument as Hinata says  _ it should have started four years earlier, dumbass!  _

But that’s a good problem to have, going forward.

A worse problem is that someone cheers at them. They break apart quickly to see that the party from inside is mostly outside, and staring at them. The Miya twins are laughing at him, probably. The someone was Bokuto, who was quickly shushed, in vain, by three people.

Tobio dies of embarrassment then. He dies and will forever be haunting some poor kid with terrible receives playing volleyball in middle school hallways. 

Romero winks at the two of them and then ushers the little crowd back inside. They go slowly, catcalling them the whole way. Suga might be crying.

“This was not how this was supposed to go,” Hinata says, and Tobio turns around to find him red-faced and frowning. It’s cute, and for the first time Tobio allows himself to think so. “You were supposed to say ‘thanks Hinata but I just like you as a friend’ and I was supposed to stop pining over you and find someone much hotter and nicer than you but-” 

“Oh, did you want me to say that instead?” Tobio smirks, and is elbowed in the ribs. 

“I hate you.” 

Tobio kisses him, just because he can. It’s a brief kiss and he steps away to go get made fun of inside but is pulled back in again and, well. He goes easily. 

Hinata kisses with the same one-track focus he gives everything else. It’s like kissing Tobio is the only thing he wants to do right now, and he wants to be the best at it. Tobio scoops his arms around Hinata’s waist and draws him in close. He was honestly prepared to suffer the rest of his life away, and not a lot has changed. He will still suffer his life away because kissing Hinata is agonisingly sweet and he is  _ so  _ short but he’ll do it gladly. Reverently. His high school self would probably pass out in shock if he saw this. 

Hinata pecks his lips one final time, still flushed red.  _ “Now  _ we can go inside.”

It takes a few moments before Tobio’s brain catches up and he falls into step next to Hinata. “I’m preemptively calling Akashi so he can stop Bokuto from yelling at me.” 

Hinata laughs and holds his hand and he is so, so in love. “I don’t think it’ll work, Bokuto’s been more invested in this than Yachi. And if it’s not one of them it’ll be someone else.” 

“You told Yachi before me?” Tobio says, incredulous and only half joking. “You told  _ Bokuto  _ before me?” 

He pauses, and then: “‘Someone else?’”

“Shut up. I’m not subtle, you’re just an idiot. Now go get yelled at.” 

Tobio sighs, and kisses Hinata one last time before he opens the door. 

“For good luck,” he says, just to see the flush creep back up Hinata’s neck. 

He’s  _ pushed  _ through the door for that. 

Bokuto is already standing up, half-drunk and grinning and Tobio’s heart sinks to the soles of his feet. 

_ “KAGEYAMA TOBIO YOU-”  _

The rest of the night is excruciating. 

But. Hinata holds his hand and leans against him and has to say what part of Tobio he likes most as part of a drinking game (his setting, obviously), so maybe it’s not  _ too  _ bad. 

And outside, bathed in red-yellow neon, two shadows lie on broken ground, content. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
